


Soundwave's Starscream Solution Services

by tragakes (lejf)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alt-Mode Sexual Interfacing, M/M, Was supposed to just be porn but they caught feelings somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lejf/pseuds/tragakes
Summary: Soundwave gets fucked by an F-16.





	Soundwave's Starscream Solution Services

Soundwave wasn’t even sure what argument had been the source of Megatron’s frustration this time, only that his Lord stormed into High Command demanding Soundwave to _fix the damn seeker!_

His go-to recording for ‘Yes, Lord Megatron’ was in Starscream’s voice, so instead he respectfully reclined his helm and scanned through the cameras of the Nemesis. Starscream was… in one of the loading bays, sitting resentfully in a shadowed crevice of the ship in his alt-mode. First, Soundwave would diagnose the problem. Then, he would see if any other mech was capable of fixing it. It was his well-thought out system of solving anything that involved Starscream.

Vehicons skittered away at his approach with the assumption that the all-seeing eye of the ship was here to punish them, never suspecting that Soundwave was, in fact, merely running an errand between two errant and stubborn mechs. 

The cargo bay opened at his command, a widening rectangle of light sweeping across the floor of the bay. It illuminated the edge of a wing, its elegant sweep of metal, a vivid red stripe that drew the optic — and then Soundwave strode forwards. 

“What is the problem now, Starscream?” Megatron asked from his speakers. The entire F-16 seemed to flare and quiver in indignation.

“Why would I be in jet form in a place where there’s _no sky_ to fly in, hmm?” 

Soundwave could predict a number of reasons, but he made no move to list them. Starscream would continue on his own.

Sure enough, “Because my transformation cog is _ruined_ , Soundwave — tarnished by that slag-ridden–“

The rest of the tirade was tuned out and Soundwave was comm’ing for Knock Out in no time. If it was a medical issue-

“–and so I need it to be polished.”

Soundwave paused. His helm tilted inquiringly towards Starscream and he cancelled the comm. Knock Out would never agree to polishing _Starscream’s_ t-cog, and vice versa. It was an act of mutual trust, implied a degree of intimacy, and certainly not what the two shared. Soundwave scrolled through his feed, and as expected, Skywarp and Thundercracker were out scouting.

His Lord had ordered Starscream restored to functionality. His sharp-pointed helm dipped further. The third stage in Starscream Situation SolutionsTM was to fix it himself. 

One rarely-known but widely-suspected fact about Soundwave was that he kept a whole array of tools in his subspace, from energon cubes to screws and spanners, from gel to polish, from cable to metal — Soundwave was the walking and not-quite-talking picture of _prepared_. That aside, he cleaned and polished Laserbeak often. It wasn’t such a surprise that he had polish in his subspace. She was still out doing rounds on the ship, and so Soundwave had no qualms about settling to his knees in front of Starscream.

“ _Yes_ ,” he heard Starscream hiss, his EM field flickering wide with pleasure. “That’s right, Soundwave. Get under me.” Starscream’s engine purred, suspension raising to allow more room for Soundwave to fit beneath him, wings and frame tipped back invitingly.

Starscream clearly wanted him here. It was not a coincidence that he’d chosen to pitched a fit on how his _t-cog was too grubby and clogged with this disgusting organic material!_ while his trine-mates were absent, and not a coincidence that he was so eagerly calling Soundwave to touch him. Starscream had been trying to capture Soundwave’s attention for a few weeks now. 

Soundwave assumed it was some sort of strange new pastime. Never did he believe the seeker was _actually_ interested. No mech was interested in Soundwave for long. His personality was simply… unremarkable.

So he settled his back against the floor and slid beneath Starscream’s cockpit, and then further under his frame, his lithe black plating disappearing under the marginally-larger jet. They were similar in height, but Soundwave’s frame was smaller, more narrow, and without so many weapon systems. The cargo-bay was so dark that Soundwave found he had to search for Starscream’s transformation cog through touch alone, his slim fingers skimming the underside of Starscream’s body.

He felt the full-plated shiver run through the metal as Soundwave spread his hands wide to explore, following seams that he hoped would lead him to the t-cog. When it remained undiscovered, Soundwave slid further down, his pedes bumping into Starscream’s back wheels. The wheels were rather close together, so Soundwave spread his legs around them instead of between them, still gliding lower, until his fingers brushed that was undoubtably Starscream’s t-cog. 

There came a low purr of Starscream’s engines, the entire jet shaking with a restrained EM field. Soundwave’s fingers were delicate, precise. He had a cloth and solvent spray in his hand and was drawing it over Starscream’s metal in slow, careful circles, fondling all over Starscream’s sensitive cog while he was just _splayed out_ there beneath him, his lean legs spread wide.

It was suggestive, yes, and Soundwave felt a momentary rush at the thrill of it, but reminded himself because he knew _Starscream_ was unable to pursue any trace of professionalism, Soundwave would have to. There was no room in his processor for errant thoughts.

Yet still. In the darkness of the cargo bay, the world was derived through touch alone and sound alone. Warm plating vibrated around him, penning him down on all sides, and it was so alive above him, the heat radiant enough that it seemed tangible. Soundwave was all too aware that it was Starscream he was under, his knees bumping the lower edge of Starscream’s wings, his arms raised to stroke over Starscream’s t-cog. 

Soundwave could not see the extent to which Starscream was dirtied, and so he’d simply have to lay there and estimate a finish time while Starscream started to buck above him, field openly leaking lust and desire now. Soundwave kept his own drawn tightly around him, hesitant to spur the jet on, but… Starscream was his superior, Commander of the skies, and so obviously _wanted_ Soundwave in this moment. 

It was just momentary, Soundwave told himself. Some elaborate trick. 

His cooling fans were still threatening to whirr online, however, and he could feel his valve come to life after vorns of disuse. 

His directive was to _clean_ , not to find himself panting after the Air Commander’s spike. Soundwave tried to chastise himself, slipping his fingers into the gap between Starscream’s t-cog and plating. 

The act of it was intimate because it implied trust: if Starscream abruptly chose to transform back into root-mode, Soundwave would find himself down a hand. And if Soundwave chose to sabotage Starscream, Starscream would be trapped in his alt-mode until he received a replacement. 

Starscream, Soundwave realised, did not have much ‘organic material’ trapped in his cog at all. His sole purpose appeared to have been luring Soundwave beneath him, and that growing suspicion — Starscream wanted him? Was it possible? Or merely elaborate delusion? — made Soundwave’s frame heat. Surely Starscream could feel it too, could sense the core temperature rising in the mech spread beneath him…

Something bumped into Soundwave where his legs were spread and his aft was unprotected at the narrow taper of his hips. Soundwave froze. Whatever it was, it bumped again, and it gave off heat like a furnace and ignited a spark of charge that leapt through his body. His fans lost the battle and clicked on of their own volition, though Starscream’s fans and engines were practically roaring above him, drowning out all noise. 

It nudged again — prodding at his closed valve cover. Soundwave’s valve was a small thing, his waist so narrow, like an arrow pointing downwards, drawing the gaze down. His bio-lights pulsed vividly against his dark plating, whorls and lines and elegance framing the closed panel.

Soundwave didn’t dare look down. But he tipped his hips up just the slightest and slid back his panel, pretending it was not happening. This was not happening. Soundwave was not fraternising. 

His valve felt raw, exposed, softening against the heated air, pliant under a nudge of what he knew was Starscream’s spike. It was so impossibly warm, thick — Soundwave was letting the _jet_ penetrate him. He could hardly believe it, and so he _didn’t_. He focused on delving his fingers deeper into the crevices of Starscream’s t-cog, acting as though Starscream’s spike on the underside of his carriage wasn’t extended, wasn’t pressing in as a slow inexorable slide.

Soundwave couldn’t help his soft blat of static when Starscream sheathed himself inside. He felt incredibly full, Starscream’s spike large inside him, easing its way in with the aid of Soundwave’s lubricant. The sensation of being _filled_ was alarming, disarming, Soundwave shaking and spitting static when particularly sensitive nodes were stroked. Still, Starscream seemed to have lengths to go, the entire jet tipped downwards, suspension slowly pressing himself down into Soundwave. He seemed to surround Soundwave on every side, his EM field wide and encompassing. Air Commander. Lord of the Skies.

His groans were mostly broken phrases. Soundwave attempted to recall the last time he’d interfaced, but that train of thought was terminated when a shock ran through his frame and he clenched down tightly on Starscream’s intruding spike. 

He’d never expected Starscream to be silent during interface, but he was, attention fixed solely and rocking downwards again and again. How absurd it must’ve looked, Soundwave beneath the bouncing jet, his visor fritzing static as pleasure climbed through his lines, his hands abandoning their pretence of cleaning and instead struggling to find some sort of hold against the sides of Starscream, urging him down, harder, faster, fuck him and _ruin him_ just ruin himbreak him apart tear him to every shattering piece–

Soundwave hit overload with a warbling cry and crashed through it — and further as Starscream’s spike slammed into him and did not stop. His lubricant sprayed between them, his spike that he’d barely realised pressurised gushing transfluid, and his back scraped against the floor as each shove of the flight-frame above him rocked his body. He felt unmoored, pushed over the height and beyond as Starscream’s unrelenting pace pushed him further to another overload. 

He lost control of his vocaliser, pitifully loud as he gasped and mewled through every stroke of Starscream’s spike. If he had a voice he would beg for it. Beg never for Starscream to let him go. Just _take_ him day after day because Soundwave _wanted_ it, wanted that lust that clung to their frames like heavy dripping honey and wanted that desperation that had lubricant gushing around Starscream’s spike, wanted wanted wanted him never to stop and just take him take him take him Soundwave was right _there_ but no one ever saw him no no nono-

Starscream’s spike thrust deep and came. The rush of transfluid, crackling charge, shot Soundwave through another overload that reset his processor entirely, his vision flickering in and out of consciousness as he felt himself filled with Starscream’s fluids. The flood of it felt like forever even though his processor told him it was fifteen kliks, the moment of connection between them too tangible for Soundwave to want to release.

Starscream’s withdrawal from him was eventual but felt abrupt, his spike sliding out and out, the heat above him missing, the feeling of Starscream surrounding him vanishing, engines and wheels and metal folding away to land in Starscream’s root-mode, standing triumphantly as his spike depressurised and slid behind a shutting panel. 

“Hah!” Starscream crowed.Through the darkness, Soundwave saw his wings flick high as he regarded the mess of a mech at his pedes. “Never let it be said that _Starscream_ can’t get any mech to overload.”

It was like a sudden stab to the spark. Soundwave’s arms tucked close to his body, trying to make himself smaller, drawing in his EM field quickly and leaving a cold void in its place. He knew that he should’ve covered himself up, closed his panel or done _anything_ instead of laid there on his back, dis-oriented, hurt, Starscream’s transfluid still trickling from his valve. 

He’d humiliated himself. Starscream had just wanted to frag him as a _boasting right_ — and Soundwave had rolled over and mentally begged for it. 

He wouldn’t again. But for some reason Soundwave still couldn’t stand. He felt strutless, both from sheer overload and from betrayal of his own stupidity. 

“Hey,” Starscream said, bending down to look at him more closely, red optics tipped towards him. “Want to go again?”

Soundwave shook his helm. His fingers had laced together, raised to the bottom of his visor as though trying to hide his already-hidden face. 

“Well alright,” Starscream huffed, “let’s get you cleaned up then, shall we?” He grabbed his arm to help him up — to Soundwave’s blank surprise — and then froze as he caught Soundwave’s EM field, staring down. Starscream’s expression morphed through an interesting variety that Soundwave couldn’t start to decode, and then he huffed loudly again. 

A kiss was pressed to Soundwave’s helm. Shockingly chaste. Soundwave’s processor ground to a halt.

“Stop being so stupid,” the seeker muttered, but his tone was absent of its usual screeching quality in a way that Soundwave had only ever heard reserved for his trine-mates.

Soundwave’s spark bloomed a little. 

 


End file.
